


Older Than I Look, Younger Than I Feel

by Codydarkstalker



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Past Peter Parker/Tony Stark - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19752106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codydarkstalker/pseuds/Codydarkstalker
Summary: Peter had just wanted to spend a few days not thinking about Tony Stark. His mentor, his friend, his stand in father and sometimes lover. Which mostly just lead him to losing some sleep and some more innocence to another masked man. But at least he came home from Europe older and wiser and with a few more broken ribs to teach him not to trust every man hiding his face from the world.





	Older Than I Look, Younger Than I Feel

“Come on kid, let’s get a drink. Time to celebrate.” Quentin Waved over his shoulder as he headed off down a seemingly random street.

“I, uh, I’m not twenty-one?” Peter managed, still unsure of what he should do. A part of him wanted to just run off and find his classmates and slip back into the role of Peter Parker, a high-school student. But another part wanted to go and hang out with another hero, get a little bit of what he’d had with Tony back.

Quentin just laughed and gestured for Peter to follow him, and a few seconds later Peter did. Ned and his girlfriend would be fine. And clearly Mary Jane wasn’t missing him much. It seemed like no one really noticed when he went missing, so he might as well get some fun out of his trip. 

And fighting monsters with Mysterio was fun. More fun than he had had since before the issues with Thanos. Sure it had been exciting when Tony Stark recruited him to be some sort of junior Avenger, but punching Captain America and other heroes hadn’t really been his idea of a good time. He had barely been able to wrap his head around the Sokovia Accords, but he had been dragged into the battle anyway. Fighting monsters, big ugly things intent on destroying cities, that was so simple by comparison. There wasn’t much moral grey area when you have to punch some kind of humanoid firestorm looking to burn down Prague. 

So he followed Mysterio into the bar. It was a cute little local spot, with a few people form the festival holed up inside. They cheered when the heroes walked in. Someone turned on the radio and energetic pop music in a language Peter didn’t understand came on, and drinks were pushed into their hands. 

Quentin smiled and waved and managed to convince the bartender, who spoke at least a bit of English, to get them seats at the bar, and after a while the rest of the crowd settled down to drink and chat. Peter looked down at the drink in his hand and sniffed at it. It was fizzy and smelled of lemon, but he was pretty sure there was alcohol in it.

“Uh, I’m not really allowed to drink,” he said, holding up the glass to take a closer look. “I mean, maybe they have like soda or something?”

Quentin laughed and took a long sip of his own drink, sighing in satisfaction. “Oh come on, live a little. You’re a superhero, if they trust you to go out and fight villains, they should trust you to drink.” he reached across the bar and grabbed a straw, putting in Peter’s drink with a decisive motion. “Besides, this is a key part of a European vacation isn’t it? And the drinking age here is crazy low so it’s not really a problem.”

Peter hesitated for a second and then took a sip. The drink was good. Bubbly and sweet enough to cover most of the taste of alcohol. He had tried beer once, at a house party he wasn’t quite invited to but showed up to anyway. He hadn’t liked it much. But this was good. Sitting in a quaint European bar post monster fight, having a drink with a fellow hero, it was the kind of moment he had wanted to have with Mr. Stark. The kind of moment the Avengers had, just without him.

Quentin seemed to notice he was getting lost in his thoughts and tapped a few times on the table. “Hey! So, uh, good fighting kid. You really held your own out there.” He held his drink up in salute. “When I heard you were called Spider-man I was kind of expecting something...different?”

“Like Ant-man, just spider sized?” Peter asked, taking another sip.

“Or like a spider sized man maybe?” Quentin laughed. “But you, you are something else.”

Peter quickly took another sip to try and hide the blush spreading across his face. “No no no. I mean, what about you? That stuff you do? That’s like Dr. Strange level stuff!” 

Quentin fidgeted with the hem of his cape. “Nah, I mean from what I hear he sounds great, but I don’t think our powers are quite the same. I never heard of a Sorcerer Supreme in my world. Turning back time...that sounds like a power I could have used though…” he sighed and downed the rest of his drink. A moment later the bartender appeared and quietly set down another.

Peter grimaced. He hadn’t meant to bring up anything unpleasant for the other man. It was another thing he learned about working with heroes though, almost all of them had tragedy in their past. It was basically a requirement to be an Avenger.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up anything, ya know, traumatic…” He took another sip of his drink and was surprised to find it empty. But there was another one waiting for him on the counter.

Quentin laughed. “Yeah well that’s why you should try and have a life while you can Peter.” he gestured around the bar with his drink, a tiny bit spilling over the side. “I mean, I spent my life fighting villains and still lost everything. You deserve a chance to appreciate all of this, see the world a bit.”

Peter chewed on the end of his straw. “Well uh, I did get to go to Germany a while ago? I mean I basically just saw an airport and a hotel but…” 

He remembered Germany like it was yesterday. In fact, his memories of Germany were the one ones that haunted him most when he saw Tony’s face staring out at him from a dozen billboards and television screens every day. It had been his first real fight, his first time being a real hero. It was everything he had wanted and more. Tony Stark had been like a god, just meeting him was overwhelming at first. Fighting on his side, proving himself to his idol, was all that he could have hoped for. And he had gotten so much more. 

The hotel they had stayed in was a nice one. Of course it was, Tony Stark only traveled in style. Penthouse suites were the norm for a man like that, but Peter had been in slack jawed awe the whole time. It was like being in a dream. Having Mr. Stark’s attention was like having all the warmth of the sun, just focused on you.

Peter had always considered himself sort of unlucky. His parents, his uncle, bullying at school, his aunt’s money struggles. His life seemed like a series of struggles. Mr. Stark was like a guardian angel swooping in and setting everything in place, making his life perfect. And when Mr. Stark had come into his hotel room to go over a few finer points of the plan to find him enjoying the hotel pay per view, it was like one of his wet dream becoming reality.

He had been awkward at first. He had jumped so high it was a wonder he didn’t end up stuck on the ceiling. But he had yelped in a very unsuper hero like way and tried to hide under the fancy Egyptian cotton sheets, but Mr. Stark hadn’t looked at him the way his Aunt did when he took too long in the bathroom, or had to wash his sheets before school. No, Mr. Stark had LOOKED at him. 

Tony Stark was known for a few things. Being rich. Being a genius. Being a drunk. And being an insatiable sexual deviant. Peter hadn’t been thinking about any of that at the time, just about how good it felt to be seen by someone like that. To be taken care of more than he had been in years. 

“...Peter?” 

Peter nearly jumped out of his seat when Quentin laid a hand on his arm, jerking him out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry about that.”

Quentin shook his head. “No it’s fine, you seem a bit worn out.” He looked around. “Not much of a vacation huh?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not really. I just, I just wanted to relax a little, be normal for a while.”

Quentin turned so he was fully looking at Peter. “Listen,” he said, voice low. “There’s something you need to know. You can be normal. You can make that choice. You’re the only one who gets to control your life. Not Nick Fury or Tony Stark or me or some Avenger.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Peter shifted in his seat and pulled out the Edith glasses. “Just hard to remember sometimes when things get crazy like this.” He snapped the glasses case open and shut a few times, thumb pressed against the spring.

Quentin glanced down at the little case. “Huh, those the fancy glasses Stark left you?” 

Peter nodded and took them out and set them on the counter. There was a greasy thumbprint on the lens from the last time he had put them on. “Yeah. EDITH, that’s what he called it.”

Quentin picked up the glasses and inspected them for a moment. “Hmm, let’s see.” he leaned forward and carefully placed them on Peter’s face, fingers ghosting over the shell of Peter’s ears.

The teen blushed and ducked his head down, trying to hide his face. “They, uh, they look kinda dumb on me.”

Quentin reached out and tilted Peter’s head up to get a closer look, leaning in again. “Hmmm….”

Peter squirmed under the weight of the man’s stare. “They do right?”

Quentin narrowed his eyes. “I mean...Would those glasses look good on anyone?” he laughed and tapped the edge of the frames, which were already starting to slip down Peter’s nose a bit.

Peter bit back laugh of his own and took the glasses off, holding them in his hands a moment before handing them over to the older man. ‘Here, you try them on.”

The man hesitated for the briefest moment before taking the glasses and sliding them on. He made sure they were sitting straight and brushed his hair back with his hands before giving Peter a look that wouldn’t have been out of place on a male model. “Well?”

The glasses were, in Peter’s mind at least, a little tacky. Very much Tony’s style. But on Quentin, they didn’t look half bad. Though it was hard to imagine anything looking bad on the man. He had perfect hair, a well manicured beard, and intense blue eyes that shone even behind the lenses of Edith. Just sitting next to him made Peter feel gangly and awkward. 

“They uhm, they look pretty good,” Peter finally managed, suddenly aware he had been staring. “Better on you than me.”

Quentin shrugged and slipped the glasses off, setting them delicately on the bar top. “Well, maybe you’ll grow into them huh?” He shrugged and downed the rest of his drink. 

Peter nodded and grabbed the glasses, popping them back into their case and snapping it shut so he didn’t have to look at another reminder of Tony Stark. The man’s ghost had been with him the whole trip, and between the adrenaline of the fight wearing off and the drinks, it was all a bit much. He felt the prickling threat of tears in his eyes and rubbed at his face with shaking hands, huffing out a little breath. 

Quentin reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of Peter’s face, smiling softly. “Hey, you okay kid?”

Kid. Tony had called him kid. Called him all sorts of cute little pet names. Peter couldn’t hold back the little whimper he made, couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. Quentin had taken his gloves off and his hands were big and warm and soft. He smelled like smoke and sweat and underneath that, expensive cologne with just a hint of something like mint. Peter sighed and breathed it in. It was what he wanted, what he needed. 

“Hey, let’s get out of here, huh?” Quentin got up from his stool and wrapped an arm around Peter, guiding him out of the bar. A few of the patrons looked up at them somewhat quizzically but none of them said anything or stopped him. It wasn’t hard to take a few deserted back streets to the hotel Quentin was staying at. The streets near the disaster had been cleared, buildings emptied. Mysterio used his powers, or maybe just brute force, to open a back door and then his room just a quick flight of stairs away. 

The room was nice. Not as fancy as the one in the hotel Fury had booked for his classmates, but it was clean and the mini bar was well stocked and the bed was big and soft looking. Peter sank down onto the duvet and watched as Quentin busied himself in the kitchenette, returning with two more drinks.

“Here ya go.” He handed Peter a glass and set his own on the bedside table. “I’m just gonna get a bit more comfortable first.” 

He started removing his costume before Peter could look away. First his helmet and cape were carefully set to the side. Then the gloves and gauntlets and chest plate. Peter sipped his drink, something else sweet with just a hint of alcohol taste, and watched the older man through his eyelashes. Under the armor, Quentin was in good shape. He wasn’t as ripped as Thor or Captain America, but his stomach was firm and his arms looked strong. He he took off his shirt he turned and Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the way the muscles in his back moved under his skin. 

His own costume, already an imperfect fit, felt tight. The fabric scratchy on his overly sensitive skin. Under the costume he was too hot, and still covered in sweat from the fight. Quentin, he looked perfect. His hair barely mussed, his skin free of bruises or scars. He finally looked away when Quentin peeled his costume off down to his underwear. 

“Hey, if you wanna get cleaned up, the shower here is great.” 

Peter bit his lip. “I should probably go back to the hotel soon. You know, my class..’ he trailed off as he looked up. Quentin was standing there sipping his drink, wearing nothing but a tight fitting pair of dark blue boxer briefs. “They, they might notice I’m gone.” he cursed himself internally. If he didn’t sound like a loser already, that would do it.

But really he wasn’t sure anyone would notice. Ned and his Summer fling were so busy staring into each other's eyes he wasn’t sure if they had seen any of Europe yet. And clearly MJ had someone else to keep her busy. No one else in the group was likely to notice at all. He was almost invisible when with them except as an occasional punching bag for Flash. 

The older man just flashed a smile and shrugged. “Hey, do whatever you want. You seem like you have a decent head on your shoulders. You should be able to spend your vacation however you like.” He put the drink down and settled onto the bed next to Peter, stretching his arms over his head and relaxing back onto the many throw pillows. 

Peter traced the hair leading from Mysterio’s navel down into his underwear and jumped up. “Y-yeah actually a shower sounds good. I’m a mess, I should, I should clean up ya know? Don’t wanna be all gross…”

He scurried into the bathroom as fast as he could and closed the door behind him, suddenly eager for some breathing space. He turned on the water in the shower and slumped against the sink as the water warmed up. He stared at himself in the mirror and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked at his reflection, he saw a face he barely recognized. For the first time since Tony was gone, his face wasn’t so tired looking. The blush hid some of the dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a mess, and he had a ring of ash smudged around his neck line from his mask, but he looked, at least a little, like his old self. 

He pulled off the remains of his makeshift costume and took a careful inventory of himself. A few smallish bruises, no major damage from the fight. He touched a slightly tender mark above his hip and shivered, he could remember Tony marking him. It had been such a thrill to have that small secret bruise on his skin, hidden away under his costume or school clothes. Something that was just for him and Mr. Stark, like his identity as Spider-man had been in the beginning.

He had just finally stepped into the water when he heard a rap at the door. “Hey Peter, I…” Quentin stopped, staring at Peter through he barely fogged glass of the shower door. He had pulled on a pair of loose blue lounge pants and even through the steam peter could see the tent forming in the front. “I just came in to see if you wanted room service…”

Peter took a deep breath, and then decided. “No, but uh, doyouwannajoinme?” He flinched at the rushed sound of his words but he forced himself not to just take it back. He was almost certain Mysterio had been looking at him the same way tony had before. And he needed it, the steady feeling of a larger, stronger person, around him, in him.

He whimpered at the feeling when Quentin slid the door open and let the cold air from the bathroom in. But a second later and all his sounds were swallowed up as Quentin pressed their mouths together. He tasted like mint and his beard felt softer than Peter had expected, a sharp contrast to Tony’s rough unshaved cheeks and days old stubble. But then Quentin was pressing him gently against the wall and kissing down his neck and stroking his sides gently and it wasn’t Tony he was thinking about anymore. 

Quentin treated him delicately, like he’d never been treated before. The older man acted as though he was made of glass, and not a super powered being that could slam a person through the tile wall behind him without breaking a sweat. But it was nice, so he tilted his head back to give the taller man more access and relaxed into the sensation. Quentin’s hands were soft and he arched up as those hands moved behind him to cup his ass.

“Hey kid, this okay?” Quentin murmured against his ear. “Tell me if I’m going too fast.”

Peter panted and shook his head. “No, it’s good, keep going,” he groaned. “Just, more.” he sounded needy, but it was hard to care when he really did need more. More of those hand son him, more teeth in the kisses along his collarbones. More intensity to drive out all the cobwebs in his head. 

Quentin smiled against his skin and did as he was told, fingers massaging the firm muscles of Peter’s ass. He grabbed a bit harder and actually lifted Peter up so the teen could wrap his legs around him, bringing them face to face. “I am gonna make this good for you.”

Peter just buried his face in Quentin’s neck and let himself be carried out of the shower and carefully lowered onto the bed. The blankets were soft beneath him as Quentin leaned back to give himself room to touch and explore. He couldn’t bring himself to look the older man in the eye so he flung and arm across his face and just let his knees fall apart in a silent plea for more.

Thankfully Quentin seemed fine with that direction and simply worked his way down Peter’s body, touching and tasting and pulling more sweet little noises out of the boy. Peter couldn’t see the smirk spreading across his face, couldn’t see the glee in his eyes as he held Tony Stark’s protoge’s thighs wider. Peter was writhing beneath him, canting his hips up in a plea for more contact with his already hard cock. But Quentin just continued with his ministrations, holding Peter’s legs by the back of his knees and holding them up and apart. 

“You look so good like this,” Quentin whispered, leaning in rub his bearded cheek against the soft pale flesh of Peter’s inner thigh. “Tell me if I’m going too fast.” He started to kiss the boy’s thighs, moving in and down towards his cock.

Peter tipped his head back and gasped. He didn’t need Quentin to slow down, he needed him to speed up, to do more, to do it harder and faster. He needed the other man to do it like Tony had done it, but that wasn’t a thought he could voice in such a situation. He was certain if he said Iron man’s name in bed that he would actually die from mortification. But he also couldn’t bring himself to beg. He was a highschooler, how slutty would he look if he begged a grown man to hurry up and fuck him through the mattress and just move on from the romantic stuff?

Quentin managed to erase all of those thoughts by doing something Tony had never gotten around to. The man had swallowed his cock down in one smooth motion and peter arched his back so hard he was amazed his spine didn’t snap as he chased more of that wet heat. It was an intense feeling, and Quentin just held onto Peter’s hips and gently guided him as he fucked up into the man’s mouth. 

“Oh god oh god oh gooood…” Peter groaned and buried his hands in Quentin’s hair as he experienced his first blow job. When he was younger he had imagined it a little differently, him and a cute girl his own age alone in his bedroom, maybe with a movie playing in the background to hide to hide the noise from his aunt. But he also hadn’t imagined losing his virginity to a man more than twice his age, in Europe, right before he had to go and punch Captain America. So really this was sort of par for the course.

Quentin sucked a little harder and slowly pulled his head back, letting Peter’s cock slip free from his mouth with an almost inaudible ‘pop’. He flicked his tongue across the tip and smiled up at peter. “Mm, you’re so good. Tell me what you want baby.”

Peter choked on his next words, the ‘baby’ twisting up his insides worse than a punch, and instead just relied on communicating with body language. He pulled his legs free of Quentin’s grasp and bent himself in half, easily tucking his feet up by his ears and exposing his hole to Quentin. It wasn’t really fair, using his Spider-man powers in such a situation, but it also wasn’t fair how Quentin was making him feel so good and so bad at the same time. 

Quentin’s eyes went wide and his grinned turned wolfish. “Oh, so that’s what you’re after…” he sat up on the bed and leaned over Peter to grab a tiny hotel bottle of lotion off the bedside table, dousing his fingers in it. It flooded the room with the smell of vanilla and Peter was almost overwhelmed by it when he gasped at the first cool wet touch of Quentin’s fingers on his opening. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered open as the man started to press a finger inside, going as slowly and carefully as he could, not caring or not remembering that Peter could take it, couldn’t be hurt so easily. His big brown eyes locked on Quentin’s bright blue ones and that was what broke him. Looking up as he was being prepared and seeing something other than Tony’s warm brown eyes staring down at him. He clenched his eyes shut and willed away the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

Quentin took his time breaking the boy in, slowly sliding in one finger and teasing Peter’s prostate with gentle, fleeting touches for a good fifteen minutes before adding a second. Peter clenched around his fingers, gasping and twitching until Quentin finally gave in and added a third. By that time Peter was a mess, unraveling under him. The teen was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead and his face and chest flushed a bright pink. A pretty sight and one that up until that moment had only been seen by Tony Stark.

By the time Quentin was ready to slide his cock inside of Peter, the teen was barely coherent, eyes teary and legs shaking as he held them in place. The man lined himself up and kept his eyes on Peter’s face as he pushed inside, bottoming out in one slick motion. Once he was fully sheathed he pushed forward even further, grinding into the younger hero until he finally snapped. 

In a swift movement Peter let his legs drop and wrapped them around Quentin’s waist. He gripped the older man hard, pulling him even deeper inside and then flipped their positions, seating himself on the other man’s cock without ever letting him slide out. Quentin made a small sound of surprise as the teen started riding him, setting a punishing pace for the two of them, lifting until Quentin’s cock was almost entirely unsheathed, and then slamming back down the entire bed shook.

Peter lost himself in the sensations, tilting his head back and just letting his body move on instinct. This was what he had missed, what he had needed. No amount of fucking himself open with his own fingers or make shift toys had come anywhere near this sensation. It wasn’t just the cock slamming into his prostate and making his cock leak, it was the solid body under him. The feeling of being so so so close to another person. A living, breathing person who could touch him back. He didn’t hear himself saying Tony’s name when he came, but he felt Quentin’s hands suddenly digging into his skinny hips so hard it almost hurt and then he felt it, the twitching and warmth of being filled with a massive load of cum.

He toppled off of the older hero without any of his normal grace. His whole body was ragdoll loose, all the pain and frustration of the day forgotten as he nuzzled into the fresh smelling hotel sheets. He barely felt it when Quentin got up from the bed to fetch them damp washcloths and little bottles of water. He just let himself be washed and taken care of and tucked into the bed. He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

“That was...that was good,” he said, voice soft and hoarse. “I needed that, I think.”

Quentin leaned down and smoothed the sheets over his body. “Yeah, I could tell. Seems liek you needed a break from...everything.”

Peter nodded sleepily. “You know, this is just like that other time. I mean, not really, but kind of. You’re like him, you should have the Edith..”

Quentin laughed and didn’t respond, just shut off the light and crawled into bed next to the smaller hero. Peter was asleep in moments. When he woke up the sun hadn’t risen yet. He carefully slipped out of the bed and got dressed in the dark. He opened the window, ready to run across town and sneak into the hotel his classmates were in, and stopped. He turned and carefully set the glasses case containing Edith on the bedside table. When Mysterio woke up he would be sure to see the glasses there waiting, and Peter would be free to spend the rest of his trip with his friends. Just a normal kid for a little while. 


End file.
